Our Light Cannot Always Burn Whole

Those times, we hear a desolate chorus rising
and we vanish completely into its volcanic siren wind. This is the outstanding work of Allison Grayhurst. Visit her site and enjoy many post of interest; beautiful words.

Allison Grayhurst

Our Light Cannot Always Burn Whole


    Nests that stay through winter

are similar to us at times – left abandoned

on high barren branches,

valueless until spring – if ever, even then, reclaimed.

    We jog through bitter uneatable harvests, absorbing

disappointments as our only viable feast,

not heeding our self-honouring needs,

too proud to address imagined or deliberate injuries.

    Jackets buttoned to the neck, we move in these sewer shafts,

trying to shake the foaming stench off

of each other’s tailored attire.

    On our bed, we are broken, letting our arms rest

like a Spanish squid’s tentacles would rest,

pulled from pulsing waters. Our mouths primed for confession,

our eyes scanning features – short hair, skin under the eyes, familiar necklines.

    We tell each other these things are worth

the horror of abominations

accepted as societal norms, atrocities justified as a soldier’s directed bullet.

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